


How to Throw a Straight Punch

by frantatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Daddy Issues, Dom/sub, Domestic, Face Punching, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Murder Family, NOT BY WILL OR HANNIBAL, Non-Consensual Spanking, Other, Punching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Teaching, they would never.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantatic/pseuds/frantatic
Summary: Abigail wants nothing more than for Will and Hannibal to touch her, but the two frustratingly have some reservations about this. A misguided attempt to make the men jealous does not go as planned for AbigailWill be updated over a few daysFirst chapter is some spanking trashNon-con tag for pt 2 when Will Graham beats the shit out of an attempted rapistExplicit tag for when things get really graphic ;)
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this story is 90% done and I will be posting it in parts over the next few days.

Abigail had lost track of the time she had spent with Will and Hannibal, having ceased to measure in days, and instead judging solely by how long her efforts of trying to seduce the two remained largely fruitless. She had been able to get away with the lingering hugs and a few chaste kisses, not to mention that there was no shortage of spankings, whether she wanted them or not... But she didn’t complain about that. Most of the time anyway. Anything further than that was out of the question though.

She’d tried nearly everything she could think of, save strutting around the house naked. Pushing her ass up and moaning pleasurably while receiving a spanking had only resulted in a furious Will and a spanking she would never sanely want a repeat of. Often she would sit in their laps, but they would treat her as if she was a child wanting the attention of her father, not as a young woman wanting something much different than that. The two also never allowed her kisses to linger, no matter how she tried to lean into them, she was left high and dry every time. After a frustrating number of attempts, she decided she had had enough and set to work formulating a new plan, one she was sure would work.

She sauntered into the kitchen where Will sat at the island, files sprawled in front of him with a cup of coffee, already four times filled in his hand. Abigail stood there, twirling in her skirt that was just a cut shorter than what she would usually wear. She wanted Will to notice the way it brushed against her legs, wanted him to get a glimpse as it came high up. But god could the man focus. Even as she began to hum something tuneless, trying to catch his attention, he sat in perfect undisturbed focus.

"I have a date," she proclaimed when she could not catch his attention, and watched for any furrowed brow, any defensive stance Will might take that let on jealousy. No such luck as Will simply blinked and looked up surprised, not having realized Abigail was there with him.

“Oh?” He asked inquisitively. “With who?” his tone had a defensive hint in it, raring up to enter the overly-protective state he was so often in when it came to Abigail. She smiled coyly at the tone, prancing over the sit beside him.

“Just some boy from one of my classes,” she said sweetly. “I don’t know him too well,” she added, knowing it would stoke Will’s interest.

“Be careful,” he grumbled, eyeing her apprehensively. He knew how young men could be, and there was not a single one he was willing to trust blindly with his daughter. Just then Hannibal strode into the room, looking more dapper than usual. He wore a black suit with a bowtie, his hair gelled back into perfection. Abigail couldn’t help but to drink in the sight of him.

“You look handsome,” Abigail said with a flirty edge. Hannibal beamed at her.

“Thank you darling. You look very nice yourself,” he said, admiring the careful outfit Abigail had chosen for herself—a low cut, off the shoulder grey shirt and an adorable pleated green skirt. She returned the smile, jumping up to do a little twirl for him.

“Thanks, Will didn’t notice,” she said, giving the man in question a small pout.

“I’m afraid our dear Will’s extraordinary perception does not extend to fashion,” Hannibal said with a touch of sadness in his voice, to which Abigail giggled.

“I am right here you know,” Will said, not finding the conversation as funny. Hannibal turned to him and the files spread on his counter.

“Yes you are, working in the kitchen despite knowing how I feel about such things,” Hannibal admonished lightly.

“I thought you’d have been gone by now,” Will smirked. “And I wasn’t working just now either. Our girl was just telling me how she has a date tonight,” Will wiggled his eyebrows at her, teasing lightly. 

"Oh?" Hannibal echoed Will's reaction, an annoying habit Abigail often observed in her time spent with the two. "I'll be eager to meet him sometime," Hannibal smiled warmly at her. Abigail bristled, getting nowhere near the jealous response she had been hoping for.

"You probably won’t. He's cute but boring, I'll probably sleep with him and then forget about him," she said offhandedly.

There was the reaction she had been looking for. Will had taken on a frown, but Hannibal was smiling, almost conspiratorially at her.

"You've a right to do what you like with your body, but its polite to assure that the young man is on the same page, yes?" Hannibal said. "And promise me you'll use protection. Do you need condoms?" Hannibal asked her concernedly, to which Will stiffened in his seat.

"No, I have some," she smiled sweetly at him, reveling in the sour look on Will's face. 

"Excellent," Hannibal grinned.

“Why are you encouraging this?” Will asked, temper and concern building. Hannibal frowned, as if he didn’t know what he meant.

“Abigail is an adult, perfectly capable of making her own decision. Don’t tell me you didn’t get up to the same when you were younger.”

“I didn’t actually,” Will rebuffed. 

“And that was your decision,” he said, dismissing his objections in one fell swoop before placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Abigail is a big girl, she can do as she pleases. For the most part,” he said, giving her a gentle look of warning. She knew the rules. Turning back to Will, he asked one last time _if he's sure he won’t attend with him._

"It’s an excellent show, and I know the owner personally, I'm sure I can procure you a seat," he said temptingly.

"As enjoyable as it sounds to listen to someone loudly sing in a language I don’t speak for three hours, I have a lot to do with this case," Will said, crossing his arms and leaning his head back to look up at him, wearing a look of pretend disappointment.

"Suit yourself then," he said and took advantage of Will's position to lean down and peck the tight smile on his lips.

It was Abigail's turn to feel a flutter of envy she had been trying to instill, somehow for both of them at once. She wanted to be between them, where they only kissed one another after they finished bestowing her with each of their lingering kisses.

"Alright my darlings, I really must be going," he said, glancing at his watch. He leaned over and planted a kiss on Abigail's head, sending butterflies into her stomach and dousing the flicker of envy. "Have fun with your date," he said, winking slyly at her.

"Bye Daddy, have a nice time at the show," she smiled back at him sweetly before he hurried out to the garage. When Abigail turned back to Will, she found him staring disapprovingly.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"I didn't peg you as the one night stand type," he said gruffly.

"What type did you peg me for?" She asked slyly. Will glared.

“Sure as hell not the type who sleeps around,” he shrugged.

“Well maybe that perception of yours isn’t as legendary as they say it is,” she said sassily. She loved to toy with Will in this way, just to see how many of his buttons she could push before he had enough.

"Behave missy," Will growled.

"Don’t be so grumpy Daddy," Abigail gave him an almighty pout and came to sit on his lap, always loving the solid feel of him beneath her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and swore she could feel his lap twitch beneath her, though it might have just been wishful thinking. It did the job of making her feel turned on though. Being this close to him and in this way made it hard not to. “Everything is going to be fine,” she said. “In fact, I think it is going to be _so_ good,” she said in a suggestive tone. Will looked at her, more than a little unimpressed.

"Do I need to spank you before you go out to remind you to behave yourself?” he asked her seriously.

"Don’t I always behave?" She said innocently.

"In that case," without warning he moved her off his lap, only to pull her down over it a moment later. Abigail shrieked with giddy laughter as he did so, not taking it nearly as serious as Will was. The kitchen stools were high enough that her feet were off the floor, and she had no choice but to rest all her weight on Will. It was an incredibly arousing feeling, being this much out of control.

"Daddy stop," she said, giggling as she threw her hand back to cover her bottom. Will simply pinned it to the small of her back and gave her several loud smacks. Abigail continued a slew of pretend protests, biting her lip when they did nothing to deter Will.

"I can’t stop you from going on this date. But I want you to know that I think it is important to be with someone for the right reasons. It is much more rewarding being with someone who understands and cares about you than it is sleeping with someone for a moment of pleasure.” 

Abigail rolled her eyes. She did want that. Just not with anyone but Will and Hannibal.

"I have needs Will," she retorted. _You could probably help with them_. "All boys want is sex anyway," she said, dismissing his notion.

"Perhaps you have been talking to the wrong boys then." 

"Jealous, Will?" She jumped as the comment earned her a solid slap. She thought she might slide forward off his lap from the force, but he held fast to her.

Will wordlessly flipped up her skirt, only to freeze. He had always been one to let her keep some of her modesty, never baring her the way Hannibal often did. But he couldn’t help it when she was wearing nothing beneath her skirt to begin with. She reveled in the shock she could not see, but sense as Will hesitated.

"I'm glad I realized just how much you needed this spanking young lady," he said, adjusting her on his lap so he could raise her ass up even more than it was. "You think you're going anywhere without panties on? While wearing a _skirt_? Absolutely not, what are you thinking?" he said, before laying into her with ringing slaps. Will's hands were hard from a lifetime of working with them, and hurt in a way even Hannibal's didn’t quite match. Even so, she realized with a shiver that he was _still_ holding back.

She gripped his leg as the sharpness of his slaps picked up, afraid she might topple off his lap, but also to offset the pain. The sting grew with each successive slap and she soon began to whimper and kick. What she thought was going to be a lighthearted spanking was quickly turning into more of the genuine thing, one she had not anticipated. It took quite a bit for Abigail to not enjoy being spanked, and though she felt tingly all over still, she couldn’t deny that the slaps were beginning to dance the line of pleasure and pain. He spanked her a deep pink, a shade that would last for a few hours—hopefully through her date at the very least.

“Get up,” Will said sternly, and helped her push herself up off his lap. Her face was pink, and she wore a defiant pout on it. He made her stand between his legs, looking up at her as he sat. “Have I made an impression?”

“Yes Daddy,” she muttered, watching her hands fumble with the front of her skirt.

"Good. Now get upstairs and put some panties on," he commanded and pointed towards the steps. She did not move immediately, and Will raised his eyebrows at her.

"I've no problem putting you back over my knee if you need it Abigail," he said crossing his arms and giving her his full attention. "Do you need it?"

For a moment she considered it, as she usually did. Her ass was burning, not entirely unpleasantly, but had a nagging feeling that that might change if they were to continue.

"No," she said in a surly tone, but didn’t move. Will sighed and took her by the hips, turning her around easily and giving her a solid smack over the skirt to get her moving.

"Get going then," he said unnecessarily, for she was already prancing down the hall to get away from him and his hard hand. She huffed away up the steps, returning some time later to join Will back in the kitchen.

"I trust you're decent?” Will asked, wanting no nonsense from her.

"I wouldn't say that," she said slyly. "But I did put these on," she turned, lifting her skirt in a sultry manner, and stuck her ass out for him to see the lacy blue fabric she had chosen.

Will felt his mouth go dry at the sight. For weeks he had been curbing Abigail’s increasingly overt displays, but it was beginning to get out of hand. It didn’t help that Hannibal did nothing to stifle the behavior, returning her lingering touches and never denying her the physical affection she was constantly posturing for. There wasn’t any denying Abigail was a pretty girl, but he could never quite bring himself to think of her as more than his child. It would be wrong to give her what she was so clearly trying to get...

“Good girl,” he said, returning to his files. “You can put that down now,” it had been a moment and Abigail still stood with her skirt lifted, her pink skin peeking out underneath. She frowned.

“Do you not like them?” she asked, feigning hurt. “Don’t you think they’re pretty Will?” _She always looked so pretty when she was pouting_ … Will sighed inwardly. How much longer could he put up with the constant girlish flirting? And who was he to deny Abigail what she wanted. He had told her he would be there for her in anyway she needed. He just hadn’t expected it to be in _this_ way.

“They’re adorable,” Will said dryly, to which Abigail returned a falsely coy smile.

“I’m glad you noticed,” she said dropping her skirt approaching him again, standing between his legs where she had been before. “Look,” she said, pulling up the front of her skirt without warning and pointing to the waistband. “They’ve got a cute little bow on them too,” she said in such an innocent voice.

The breath went out of Will as the girl stood so brazenly in front of him. Against his desire and better nature, he felt a subtle twitch in the front of his pants at the show. From this close, he could see the faint flowers laced throughout, could have leaned forward and kissed them if he wanted to...

“Its very cute,” he said, and without thought raised a finger up and swiped at the little bow. Abigail inhaled a quiet, shaky breath as he did so, feeling such a powerful urge to grab his hand and press it between her legs, she just might have, had the doorbell not rang.

“That’s Jonathan,” she said, a touch of disappointment in her tone.

“Jonathan eh?” Will rasped, looking up into her round eyes, determinedly above the waist as the bell broke him out of the spell. _What the fuck was he doing?_

“Yep, maybe you'll meet him later when I bring him back here,” she said, smirking and _knowing_ she had succeeded in making him feel the jealousy she was looking for. Before Will could protest, Abigail had told him bye and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, always loving the feel of his stubble scratch her face. She kissed the corner of his mouth so quickly it might have been an accident, but both of them knew better. “Don’t wait up,” she called to him as she pranced away to the front door.

Will watched her disappear down the hall, eyebrows knit with concern. As he heard the door shut he sighed and returned to the gruesome photos in front of him, thankful they helped him to ignore the subtle strain in his pants.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lotsa fights

Jonathan was tall, deep voiced, and handsome. Prior to that night, Abigail had spent most of her time in class painting her eyes over his face and arms as they sat opposite one another. It was the main reason she had chosen him for the date. If it didn’t go well, at least she would have someone nice to look at. Though he was indeed attractive in his own respect, Abigail couldn’t help but compare him to Will and Hannibal throughout the night. Will’s shoulders were wider, Hannibal must have been a touch taller. Even the smallest details, like the way he went to take a drink or a bite of food, she couldn’t help but note that Hannibal was infinitely more graceful in these simple movements.

Abigail had told the truth earlier; Jonathan was in fact quite boring. The boy seemingly wanted to do nothing more than talk about himself. He hardly asked Abigail any questions and related everything she did say back to himself somehow. By the time they had finished their meal Abigail had known his life story, while she was sure Jonathan knew little more than her name. It didn’t bother her though. She was only using him after all, she didn’t really have to be interested in him. Besides, she had her thoughts to keep her entertained anyway. She was captivated by the memory of Will reaching out to touch her bow, and spent almost the entirety of dinner replaying it over and over again.

"You wanna go back to my place?" she asked the moment they had finished eating, eager to get out of the restaurant and back to Will. Unsurprisingly, Jonathan was quick to accept her offer, and flagged down their waiter for the check.

"This is your house?" He asked as they stepped into the exquisite foyer.

“My dad’s, but I live here so I suppose it is mine too,” she said, finding herself somewhat proud of that fact. It felt nice to say, knowing she had a place that was meant for her.

“You guys must be loaded. Maybe you should have paid for dinner,” he said, and Abigail could honestly not tell if he was joking, opting to awkwardly laugh it off. 

“Want a tour?” she asked, but he only looked at her with a wicked grin.

“I’d rather just see your room,” he said, moving in very close to her. AHEM. The two whipped around to see Will sat on the couch in the joining living room, arms crossed and looking extremely displeased. Abigail smiled knowingly at him.

“I told you not to wait up dad.” She always called him dad in front of others, reserving daddy for their moments alone. Will accepted whatever she chose to call him, but couldn’t deny the delight he felt when she called him that particular name, and the small sense of loss when she did not. 

“I wasn’t waiting,” Will said nonchalantly. “I was just here reading my book.” It just so happened that Will chose a seat with the perfect view of the front door is all… Abigail rolled her eyes at him but didn’t argue. 

“This is Jonathan,” she said a bit exasperated, though everything was going as planned; she had known without a doubt that Will was going to see her home. She introduced the boy beside her, who had not taken a step back despite being under the impression they were in the presence of the girl’s father. 

“Pleasure,” Will said to him, hardly sparing the boy a glance. From the moment he walked in, Will had a bad feeling about him, and despite what Abigail might have thought, it was not jealousy alone that inspired the feeling. His intuition was sharp, and he had learned to trust it over the years. He was not keen to start ignoring it now. “It’s late. Shouldn’t your friend be heading home?”

“Its 9:30,” she giggled, delighting in the obvious disapproval. “We’re just gonna hang out for a little while,” she said sweetly, though she knew Will remembered what she had suggested they would really be doing earlier. The look he gave the two could have killed, and truly he was wished it would do just that to the boy. Begrudgingly Will relented and allowed them to spend time together but refused to let them go without a caveat. 

“You have class in the morning, I don't want him staying too late,” he said, glaring at Jonathan. “Ten at the latest,” Will said, and Abigail couldn’t help but think that strict looked good on Will. Still, she played the part of an annoyed teenager well, groaning at the curfew but accepting it nonetheless. It would be helpful anyway to get Jonathan out of the house when she surely tired of him. 

In full view of Will, Abigail took Jonathan by the hand and pulled him up to her bedroom, giddy at just how disapproving Will had been of all this. They entered, and Jonathan shut and locked the door behind them. When she looked at him questioningly, he simply said that he didn’t want to be interrupted.

“I don't think your dad likes me, and I’d rather him not check in on us,” he said slyly. A tug of anxiety pulled on Abigail at this, and she began to think her plan was maybe not fully thought through. Now that she had succeeded in making Will jealous, she was unsure if she truly wanted to follow through with the rest of the plan. Will would feel jealous whether she really slept with him or not.

She was moments away from asking if Jonathan wanted to watch something on her laptop and cuddle when suddenly he was on her, kissing her fiercely. It was a surprise, but after a second or two of reeling, Abigail accepted and returned the kiss, enjoying the feeling of having someone who wanted to kiss her this way. Hopefully that would soon change though…

Jonathan moved fast, moving them backwards and pushing her onto her bed, only to climb on top of her at once. He kissed her with a hunger, taking her lips into his mouth and running a tongue along the inside to taste her. Soon after he grabbed her chest, roughly kneading with one hand, never once stopping to ask Abigail if she was alright with what they were doing and how quickly they were moving. 

“Take this off,” he said suddenly, and was pulling her shirt up and over her head before she could respond to him. She was left in nothing but a bra, and it was only seconds until their lips connected again and Jonathan was groping her breast beneath the cup. They had only started but she felt him stiff in his pants as he began grinding himself into the inside of her leg.

Abigail felt frozen from the intensity, not telling him to stop and trying to enjoy the touch, but knew deep down that this was not something she wanted to be doing. Each time his lips landed on hers, it felt wrong. His taste was wrong, the way he smelled it wasn’t… it wasn't Will--wasn't Hannibal. She did want this. But not here. Not with him. Still, she had been the one to invite him over, been the one who had made suggestive comments to him all night. It was a battle between the understanding she had meant for this to happen, and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to push him off of her.

Eager fingers soon slipped beneath her skirt and began to rub her over her underwear. Abigail tried to enjoy it, but the only touch of pleasure she felt was when she pictured it was Will on top of her instead, not this near stranger. What had she been thinking. Not a moment later, Jonathan slipped his fingers beneath the flowery fabric, and though she felt entirely dry, this did nothing to deter the boy. He continued on with his uncomfortable jabbing movements, concerned only with his own pleasure rather than the both of theirs. 

Picturing Will had worked for a fleeting moment, but she knew him too well for it to last. Even without seeing, she’d know him by touch and scent and the sound of his breath alone. She knew his hands too well--and these thin, fumbling fingers definitely were not Will's. She had pictured them a hundred times like this, knowing Will would be a gentle lover, with a tender, deliberate touch--nothing like this awkward rubbing Jonathan was testing out on her.

Abigail suffered through the touch and through the uncomfortably possessive tongue slipping into her mouth again and again for a minute longer until she could no more. She turned her head to break out of the too wet kiss.

"I don’t think I can do this," she told him.

"What?" He pulled his face back, but not his hand from between her thighs.

"I just don’t think I'm ready for this yet,” she said, caught somewhere between not wanting to upset him and needing for it to stop.

"Why'd you invite me over then?" He asked annoyed, hand still between her legs.

"I thought I wanted this, but I think I changed my mind. We’re moving really fast, and my dad's downstairs. I feel weird about it," she had him by the wrist, attempting to pull his hand away from her.

"He'll never know," Jonathan said breathlessly as he leaned forward and slipped his tongue fully into her mouth. Abigail made a sound of surprise and disgust, pulling her face away from him.

“Jonathan stop,” she said, panic beginning to wash in. He did not stop, and instead began to berate her.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that? You think you can lead me on all night and then not give it up?” he said savagely. In a rough motion he yanked her underwear down and squeezed her hard between her legs, trying to force a finger inside her dryly while the other undid his belt.

That is when she screamed.

Will's head shot up from where he sat downstairs. Without any thought at all, he was running, faster than he might have ever moved in his entire life. He was at her door in seconds, zero recollection of getting himself there. His adrenaline spiked even further when he heard her once again scream on the other side of the locked door.

There was hardly a question what he was to do. Immediately he drove his shoulder into the door. The frame shuddered once, twice, finally splintering on the third try.

Things seemed to move in slow motion as he launched into the room. Abigail was lifting herself up from the bed, shirtless and skirt pressed up high above her waist. Before her was Jonathan, who was clutching his face, his pants unzipped and falling. His hand came away bloody when he looked up in Will, startled from the cracking door. 

Will felt possessed, moving towards Jonathan with a mind completely blank, save for the urge to hurt. He was on him in a second, taking the boy by the arm and wrenching it behind his back.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he could feel his face hot with rage.

“Nothings going on man,” Jonathan cried out, his arm painful in Will’s grip. 

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing,” Will shook him as he said that, and was practically spitting he was so angry. “Are you alright Abigail?” He looked over to the girl, who had righted her skirt and hand her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m alright Will,” she said but was wiping tears from her eyes. It wouldn’t have taken a detective to ascertain what had happened, and Will felt something inside of him snap at the sight of her. Truthfully, Jonathan had never been closer to death than he was in that moment.

“You made my daughter cry,” Will said with an eerily calm, turning his focus back to the boy. With an iron grip, Will lifted the boy’s pinned arm upwards, torqueing his shoulder to the point of him crying out in agony. He then barred his opposite arm across the boy’s shoulders and forced him hard into the wall, his bloody nose leaving a smatter of red on impact.

"Did Abigail tell you what I do for a living Jonathan?" Will asked coldly. The boy only whimpered, and in response Will pulled upwards on his arm again, causing the boy to lift onto his toes and scream, tears forming in his eyes. "Ask me what I do," Will shouted now, near blinded by the animosity he had for this degenerate who had hurt Abigail. The boy’s shoulder might have cracked beneath him and still he would have continued.

"What do you do sir," the boy choked out, barely able to breathe through the pain. His shoulder was screaming, and deep bruises were surely forming where Will held his wrist.

"I work for the FBI. She didn’t tell you that? Huh?" Will released him, only to cup the back of his head and slam his face into the wall. Both Jonathan’s head and the wall split open then, dust and blood mingled together, and there was a sick impression of Jonathan’s face as it came away. Immediately Will wrenched his arm behind his back again, once again lifting the boy onto his toes as he tried to escape the pain. "I could arrest you right here. But instead I think I might prefer to call you an ambulance once I'm done beating you within an inch of your life," he hissed and felt the boy tremble beneath him. 

"Please, I'm sorry," he said, spitting through his teeth at the pain. Will pressed in on his arm again, causing him to let out an agonizing cry as there was a definite crack beneath him.

"You have not begun to know what sorry is." Will was like an animal, all teeth and predatory reaction.

"Will," Abigail’s voice was quiet, but Will turned to her in an instant. "Let him go," she said in a small, but sure voice. 

"Abigail," he growled, he was so angry, he couldn't stand to have her in the middle of it. There was no way he could let him walk away, not after what he had just seen.

"Please Will, just get him out of here,” there were tears in her eyes. 

With great restraint, Will released the hold on Jonathan’s arm and it fell limp and useless at his side. Utterly defenseless, Will took the boy by his good arm and the back of his neck, bending him forward and marching him out the room. Will dragged Jonathan roughly down the steps in this way as he whimpered in fear and pain all the while. As they came to the front door, Will pulled him up by the neck, leaning in close to speak to him. 

"You ever come near Abigail again, you even so much as look in her direction and I will make you regret it for the rest of your life. However long or short that may be," he added threateningly. "You understand me? Jonathan?" Will spun him around, taking a fistful of his shirt and thrusting him into the doorframe as he said the boy’s name. The air was knocked out of him and he shook his head vigorously, still trembling with fear at what might be done to him. “I don’t appreciate you making my daughter cry very much. You lay a finger on her or any other girl and you will be seeing me again very soon. Would you like to see me again?" He was pressing hard into his chest, and there would be a bruise there to match the rest that he had acquired that day. The boy shook his head and let out a sob in response. 

“Please, I’ll never touch her again,” 

“Damn right you won’t,” Will released him, and there was no need to hold him there, he was absolutely stilled by fear. “Relax Jonathan, I’m not going to hurt you," Will smiled unsettlingly then and patted his cheek twice, none too gently. The boy was completely in tears and flinched away from the touch. Will moved fast to open the door then, and Jonathan cried out in surprise as he did so.

“Now get the fuck out of here,” his mirthless smile shifted into unrestrained hatred, and Jonathan did not need another invitation to run from the house as fast as his tripping feet could carry him. "I'll be checking in Jonathan. Keep your nose clean," he called after him as he sprinted down the front path, watching until the boy disappeared around the corner.

Will couldn’t help but slam the door shut, banging his fist against the solid wood in an attempt to release the rage that had built up inside him. Never had he felt such a white hot anger than when he entered that room, seeing the front of Jonathan’s pants undone and Abigail--the sound of her screams rattled in his head.

He wanted to collect himself before he went to her, not wanting to frighten her anymore than she likely already was. He took deep breaths, trying to ground himself in the moment.

Abigail was staring at the hole in the wall Jonathan’s face had left when he finally went back up. He stood watching her observe the wall, and couldn’t help but feel a touch of shame that she had seen him that way.

"Are you alright?" He asked her quietly, his eyes combing over her. If she has so much of a scratch on her, Jonathan. Will had already imagined twenty ways to make the boy disappear, and he was sure Hannibal would think of quite a few more when he told him later. 

“I guess. My hand hurts,” she said, gently holding it to her chest.

“Let me see,” he was to her, gently taking Abigail's injured hand in his own, noting the swelling and faint bruise already starting to form around the knuckles. Her ring and pinky finger were resting, curled and swollen.

"I've never thrown a punch before," she said sheepishly, though by her injury this much was obvious. "Still fuckin got em though," she said, laughing shortly, wiping a quick tear from her face. That explains the bloody nose.

"You did get him baby," he said and pulled her carefully into his chest as her tears began to fall silently. He resolved to just hold her there forever, where he could stop anything or anyone hurting her ever again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, muffled by the tight hug. “You were right. I shouldn’t have invited him over. I didn’t really like him at all,” she said, before holding her breath in an attempt to stop crying.

“Aw kiddo, don't worry about that. You’re young, you’re meant to make mistakes with people you don’t really like. What he did is the only thing anyone has to be sorry for.”

Abigail would not argue with him, instead settling into the feeling of safety she felt now while wrapped in his arms. After awhile Will finally pulled away to take her injured hand again.

"We'll have to get you a splint. Hannibal probably has one laying around somewhere," he was thinking where it might be. Abigail looked down, as if she might be embarrassed for what she had done.

“Well at least now I know I’m not meant to be a fighter,” she sighed, her hand really beginning to ache following the adrenaline rush. She winced as she prodded at it, and Will felt her pain, having received much the same injury when he was a young man.

“I think we’ll make a fighter out of you yet,” he said solemnly. “You’ve got the injury of one, and definitely the heart of one.”

Abigail smiled at the compliment, no matter the unfortunate circumstance it stemmed from.

"Look," Will sighed, suddenly stepping back from her and curling his hand into a fist. "I hope you never need to hit someone like that again... But if you do, you should be able to do it without hurting yourself.”

“What are you doing?” Abigail watched in curiosity as Will widened his stance.

"I'm gonna show you how to throw a straight punch. For emergencies only," he added in response to the delighted grin that broke across her face, the corner of his own mouth flickering despite himself.

"What's first?" She asked eagerly. 

Will held up his curled fist and pointed to his first two knuckles. "Right here is where you’re going to hit them. It’s the strongest point and keeps your arm in line, see?" He traced a straight line down his forearm. "You hurt your hand trying to cross over, and clipping him with your pinky and ring finger," he said assuredly.

Abigail looked down at her bruising hand. She hadn't thought about how she was punching in the moment, in fact she hardly remembered throwing it, her adrenaline had been running so high. Based on the swelling, Will was right though. She followed along the best she could, her right fist curling awkwardly with her three usable fingers. 

“We’ll work on it more when you’re feeling better,” Will said, a bit sadly. He hated to see Abigail hurt, but it only stoked his desire to teach her to better defend herself. They got back to it immediately then. "Dig your back foot in and keep you front one planted. Elbow in. Don’t swing from the outside," he demonstrated for her. “Straight out, straight back in. You wanna imagine punching through your target to get the most power.” He did the full move for her again, the air whooshing quietly around his fist. Abigail tried it, and Will chuckled as the force she threw her punch with nearly knocked her off balance. "Keep those feet planted. There you go, atta' girl," he said, beaming as she threw one with perfect form. 

Abigail grinned at the encouragement, her mind was off the incident with Jonathan, instead solely focused on honing this skill and the precious time she was spending with Will. Vaguely she wondered if she should be concerned at how desensitized to the violence she had become lately. She had just been assaulted, watched Will retaliate, and now was eagerly learning how to fight herself, feeling fine more or less. At least she wasn’t afraid anymore.

They practiced for some time, until Abigail’s hand began to ache with the exertion and Will insisted they stop. He loved to see the fire in her eyes stoked, and he saw it burn in them now. Faintly he wondered if he had awoken something in her, seeing her continue long after the pain sought to slow her.

“Remember, this is only for defense. No starting fights. Above all, if you must hit someone, do it hard, do it fast, and then get the hell out of there. Alright?” He looked at her seriously, not wanting her to have to fight any more than was necessary. Abigail nodded, taking his words to heart.

“I promise I won’t start anything,” she nodded.

“No but I’m sure you’ll finish it,” he smiled genuinely at her.

“Yeah,” she said distantly, her gaze drifting towards the broken, bloody mess of a wall. It was hard to tell what she was thinking then, it was more of a sense of sadness than thought really. Will saw this and took her gently by the shoulders, leading her from the room and making plans to fix the wall in the next day.

“Let’s see if we can find something for your hand, ok?”

“Ok,” she nodded, and allowed herself to be guided away.


End file.
